


Culpability

by citrinesunset



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Post-Cyberwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:58:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrinesunset/pseuds/citrinesunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack wants Ianto to regret his actions. Ianto thinks he's wasting his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Culpability

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Cyberwoman." I do not own Torchwood. Many thanks to my beta, .
> 
> This fic was written for dark_fest. The prompt was: Torchwood, Jack/Ianto, Post-Cyberwoman, Jack sends the others home and unleashes his fury on Ianto, in whichever way you wish. Non-con is okay but has to plausibly end with Jack suspending Ianto.

Jack was standing at the railing overlooking the autopsy bay, watching. Ianto was sat on the examination table, keeping his gaze locked on his hands. He had scrubbed them under hot water with Owen's especially strong soap, but there was still blood under his fingernails, and he could still smell the iron.

"How is he?" Jack asked Owen.

Owen would not look at Jack, either. He busied himself putting away his stethoscope and the small torch he'd shone in Ianto's eyes. "How do you think?" he asked in response.

"I mean it. Is he injured or not?"

Owen hesitated. He looked at the wall. "He'll be fine."

Ianto swallowed, and tucked his sore right arm against his chest. His head throbbed, but Owen had decided there was no concussion. He'd predicted that Ianto would ache like hell in the morning, but that couldn't be helped. Now, Ianto was running only on adrenaline.

He glanced up for the first time, and saw Jack's hands tighten around the railing.

"Good," Jack said. "Now go home. Ianto and I need to talk."

Owen's hand hovered over an open drawer. "Look, injured or not, he's no good tonight. Best thing to do would be to give him something to help him sleep."

Jack glowered at him. Even from below, Ianto could see the muscles in his jaw clench.

"You wanted my professional opinion." Owen pushed the drawer shut with a bang. "That's it."

"Just go home," Jack said.

"He's in pain. I could give him something for it before I go."

"You said he'll be fine. Go home."

Owen looked at Jack, and then at Ianto. He pressed his mouth into a thin, almost apologetic line before taking off his white coat.

"Fine...." he muttered, shoving his coat onto the hook on the wall. "Whatever. I'm knackered." He stormed up the stairs and roughly brushed past Jack.

Jack had already dismissed Toshiko and Gwen. He'd kept Owen behind, telling him to check Ianto over and make sure he wasn't hurt and that he didn't have anything he wasn't supposed to.

It was humiliating, first having to let Owen search him and then having to listen them discuss him as though he weren't there. Not that he blamed Owen. Nor did he resent Owen's honesty, even when a lie ("He might have a concussion.") could have granted him a reprieve from…whatever was going to happen now.

With Owen gone, Ianto looked at Jack properly for the first time. Jack looked down at him with a look of cold contempt that suggested the time for emotional appeals was long gone.

"How's your arm?" Jack asked.

"Fine." Ianto stopped himself from looking down at his wrist, and the red, finger-shaped bruises on it.

It had been a disarming maneuver. The gun had been a dead weight in his hand. He probably would have handed it over if Jack had asked. Gwen was the only one who'd acted surprised when Jack twisted Ianto's wrist, wrenching the gun free. She'd stepped forward shouting, "Jack!" like a mother who'd just caught her child torturing small animals.

Ianto was far less surprised by the rough treatment. Torchwood didn't have many guidelines on reasonable force.

Presently, Jack nodded. "Good," he said. Then he added, with mock interest, "I just found something. Would you like to know what it is?"

"What?" Ianto said, not wanting to hear the answer.

"A body. Not just that, it's the body of the man you snuck in here this afternoon. It was hidden."

Ianto closed his eyes and swallowed. Jack continued.

"You knew. You knew she was a threat and you didn't _do_ anything."

"What could I do?" He wanted to know what the hell Jack would have done, but he didn't ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"You could have told us!" Jack spat out. "You could have stopped her before she hurt anyone else."

Ianto looked at his knees. He could have defended himself, but that would mean admitting that he may have been fooled. It would mean blaming Lisa.

"Then it's my fault."

Jack just looked at him.

"Okay, then," Jack finally said. "You hid the body. You can take it to the morgue."

Jack turned and stormed off. Even if Ianto could think of a response, he would have had to shout it at Jack's receding back.

It occurred to him to ignore the order, but he didn't. He got a body bag, and, realizing he couldn't carry the body all the way to the morgue, a wheeled cart. There was a little-used, out of the way lift that he could use.

He wouldn't let himself think about it. That was the only way he could get through it. That idea only worked until he reached the body. Ianto bent over and shifted Dr. Tanizaki's body. The man's mutilated head dipped out from under the blanket covering it. Turning, Ianto retched onto the floor, heaving up water and bile. There was nothing else in his stomach.

For a minute, he crouched down with his hands on his knees. He tucked his tie over his shoulder, just in case. He sobbed, but there were no tears. Finally, Ianto swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. When the nausea passed, he straightened up and gave it another try.

Ianto wrestled the body into the bag, hurriedly zipped it up, and hefted it onto the cart. He pushed the cart to the lift and jabbed the button with a shaking finger. He struggled against the alternating bouts of retching and sobbing. The worst thing would be to look like a mess when he faced Jack again, and show that this punishment affected him.

Ianto assumed it was meant to be a punishment, but he also knew that this wasn't the worst that Jack could do. He hadn't forgotten Jack's threat – kill Lisa, or be killed along with her. Nor did he pretend that Jack had forgotten. To expect mercy would be foolish.

He was halfway up to the morgue level, and he realized that if he stopped the lift a couple levels below it instead, he might escape. There was a staircase that few knew of, which led to the garage where they parked the SUV. It could be his only chance.

Without sparing another moment to think, he hit the button. The lift slowed to a squeaky halt, and Ianto got out. He turned, looked at Tanizaki's body on the cart, and muttered, "Sorry."

Even if he deserved punishment, Jack wasn't the one to give it to him. Jack was more culpable than anyone. Jack had done nothing for the Canary Wharf survivors. He'd done nothing for Lisa.

Ianto ran.

It was dark in the corridor. Ianto hit an antiqued switch on the wall, but the lights were so dim he could barely see his own feet if he looked down. They rarely used this level, but Ianto knew the Hub well. He had spent his first couple weeks in Torchwood Three wandering the halls and studying blueprints, trying to find the best place to house Lisa. He could picture the layout, and where to turn. He ran as fast as he could without tripping in the dark, his footsteps echoing off the concrete. He turned the corner, continued down the hall, and found a wall.

His heart was pounding. This was wrong. Had he gotten off on the wrong level? He turned around, running one hand frantically through his hair, and tried to focus.

Finally, he noticed the gray outline against the wall, which he'd almost missed in his frenzy. He pulled open the rusty door and found what he'd been hoping for.

He sprinted up the seemingly endless staircase, metal clanging under his feet. His lungs burned from the exertion. In the dark, he stumbled, missing a step and banging his shin and knee. He ignored the pain and clung to the railing, not pausing to regain his footing, half climbing and half dragging himself up the stairs. He just prayed that he'd be able to get out of the garage.

He reached the top, yanked open the door, and ran into Jack's gun.

The shock made him stumble backwards, nearly falling down the stairs he'd just climbed. Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him forward with such force that he fell and landed on his hands and knees. When he tried to stand, he received a boot to his gut, knocking the wind out of him, followed by a second kick to the ribs.

While Ianto gasped for breath, Jack stood with his gun pointed down at him. After a minute, he reached down and hoisted Ianto up by his collar. He pinned him to the wall, placing the barrel of the gun against his head.

"The next time you think about running," Jack said, "try to remember that we have cameras." He pressed the gun hard against Ianto's temple and continued: "Did you think I wouldn't be watching you?"

Ianto closed his eyes, and Jack snapped at him. "You look at me!"

"How did you know I would come up here?" Ianto asked, as though it mattered.

Jack pressed one knee between Ianto's legs, against his balls. It wasn't enough to hurt, but was uncomfortable nontheless. "Just because you conned me once does _not_ make you smarter than me. Now move. Hands behind your head."

Jack marched him out of the garage and back into the Hub. For his efforts, he was practically right back where he started. He tried to figure out where Jack was taking him, but they passed Jack's office and the stairs that led to the cells. Instead, they stopped at the interrogation room. Jack opened the door and shoved Ianto inside.

Once again, Ianto almost fell down the stairs. This time, he grabbed the steel railing and launched himself at the door as Jack closed it. He banged one hand on the door and tried the doorknob with the other. Jack had locked him in.

Well, it was better than a cell, he supposed. At least there were no Weevils for company.

Finally, he went down the stairs. He looked up at the observation window, but there was nobody there. Ianto sat at the table.

Through the fear, the only thing he could think about was Dr. Tanizaki's body, and how he'd left it in the lift. He wondered if Jack would retrieve it, or if it would lay in there and rot.

None of Ianto's jobs got done if he didn't do them. He had no idea how the men's room had any toilet paper before he'd joined, because neither Jack nor Owen ever replaced it. He shouldn't have cared about his job, now, but he realized it was the only reason he'd ever be missed. It wasn't as though he had other obligations, and he'd hardly spoken to his family since returning to Cardiff. Maybe the team would miss him if one of them had to take a shit and Ianto wasn't around to provide something with which to wipe their arse.

Eventually, Ianto heard the door open, and heavy, echoing steps on the stairs. Jack was carrying a glass of water and a protein bar, which he set on the table in front of Ianto.

"When's the last time you ate?" Jack asked.

"Breakfast." What would have been his lunch was still on the floor of the Hub.

"I thought so," Jack said. "Eat."

Ianto looked down at the plain foil-wrapped bar with disgust. Those things were intended as emergency rations. Ianto had tried one once out of curiosity, and it wasn't something he wanted to brave again. Even with a stronger stomach. He wondered if Jack knew that, or if he'd just grabbed it out of practicality or even incompetence.

"I can't," Ianto said.

"Your choice. But that's the only food you're getting for while." Jack pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket. He shook it, making the pills inside rattle. "You know what this is?"

Of course he did. "Retcon."

"Very good!"

Jack pulled out the chair across the table from Ianto, making the legs screech along the floor. He straddled the chair and twisted the cap off the bottle. Jack started shaking pills onto the table and separating them with his fingers until they made a little white mosaic. When Ianto counted more than five, his already pounding heart felt like it was just below his skin, ready to jump out and abandon ship.

"You're not going to give me all those?"

Jack paused and looked up at him. "Not this second. Later? Maybe. We're talking about what, three years that'd need erasing?"

Ianto swallowed. "I've only been here two months."

Jack nodded. "Right. A dose that size, with something like this, your memories could be triggered within days. Sorry. Not a chance."

"A dose that high could put me in a coma. It could kill me."

Jack shrugged. "Risk I'd have to take."

From the tone of his voice, he could have been deciding which weight of paper to buy for the copier.

Ianto started to hyperventilate. Having to take those pills knowing he might never wake up again would be impossible. And even if he lived, what would he have? He was a different person from what he was before Torchwood and Lisa. Losing that would be a death in itself.

"If you're going to execute me," Ianto said, "wouldn't it be quicker to shoot me?"

Jack cocked his head. "Yeah, well, that would be cruel." He played with the pills, pushing them around on the table into a circle. "Not that you'd prefer spending the rest of your life in a cell. Not after the first year, anyway. Death by retcon could be the best thing."

Ianto looked down. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the heels of his hands. Despite his efforts, he sobbed, warm tears soaking his blood-stained cuffs. When he was younger, in his boyhood fantasies about being a secret agent, he'd imagined himself being so much braver in this sort of situation.

Even a week ago, if asked whether he'd want to live without Lisa, he would have romantically answered no. He wondered what it said about him that he wanted to live.

Across the table, Jack leaned back and said, "There we go." He sounded intrigued, like Ianto's pain was something he wanted.

Ianto covered his eyes with his hand and fought to keep himself from shaking, as though that would stop Jack from seeing.

"You get it," Jack murmured, "don't you? About having more to lose? I thought it'd take you longer to figure that out."

Ianto swallowed and rubbed his face dry, even as fresh tears threatened to overcome his efforts. "Fuck you."

Jack sprang up and, immediately, was at Ianto's side. He grabbed Ianto's hair at the roots and yanked his head back. Ianto squinted in pain and looked up at Jack's face through still-tearful eyes. Jack's cheeks were pink with anger and his nostrils were flared.

"No, fuck you," Jack hissed. "Do you think I ever wake up and think to myself, 'Wow, I'm so lucky to have a job that makes me so _popular_'? Not that I wouldn't mind a nice mug or something, but I'm not trying for boss of the year. And I don't exactly care if I impress you."

Jack released him with a shove, and turned away. He flexed his fists, as though releasing energy that would otherwise be released through a punch.

When Jack turned around again, he was breathing deeply, restraining himself.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Jack said. "The Retcon will wait. In the morning, I'm going to search your flat. I'm going to go through all your financial records, all your mail, all your internet activity since Canary Wharf. And," he pointed a finger at Ianto's face, "you're going to answer for anything I find."

"There's nothing," Ianto said, shaking his head, though he was already thinking of all the things Jack would find. He'd deleted the e-mails between himself and Tanizaki, but he couldn't guarantee that Tosh wouldn't be able to retrieve them. Then there were the blueprints for a cyber conversion unit, which he'd obtained illegally. But that couldn't be worse than hiding the actual unit.

"Really?" Jack asked. "So there're no plane tickets? Fake IDs? Anything like that?"

"No."

That, at least, was true.

"No contingency plan? So when you tried to run, you were just going to get out there and hope for the best?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Jack smiled and chuckled. For a moment it was almost comforting, and it made Ianto think of how Jack had acted towards him just that morning.

But this wasn't a friendly chat they were having. It was mockery, and maybe this was just who Jack really was: a bitter, power-drunk bastard who could look down on Ianto's situation and laugh.

Jack's expression sobered. He started to pick up the Retcon off the table, dropping the pills back in the bottle a few at a time.

"What upsets me," Jack said, "what really bothers me, Ianto, is that you don't seem that sorry. You haven't apologized at all. Are you a sociopath?"

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you?"

He was impressed by his own retort, considering the circumstances.

"This isn't about me," Jack snapped. "Either you were wrong about your girlfriend, or you're responsible for everything that happened here tonight. It's gotta be one of those. Either way, you should be really sorry right now, but you're not, are you?"

"No," Ianto said, quietly. That wasn't true. Not exactly. But it was the only answer Jack would get. Ianto felt remorse for Lisa, and Dr. Tanizaki, and that poor girl who'd died, and even Gwen, who'd still seemed shaken when she left. But Jack hadn't earned any of Ianto's remorse.

Jack leaned across the table. He reached out with one hand and pushed a strand of hair off of Ianto's sweaty forehead.

"Then we need to work on that," Jack said.

* * *

Jack left again. Ianto heard the lock click, and didn't even bother going up the stairs to give the door a try.

Ianto licked his lips, and looked longingly at the glass of water. His mouth was dry, and still had a foul taste in it from earlier. He picked up the glass and swirled the water around. He sniffed it. It probably wasn't drugged. Jack had made it clear enough that he planned to wait on the Retcon. Ianto wasn't keen to trust Jack, but he wasn't in a position to demand a sealed bottle.

He took a small sip. It tasted all right, so he gulped down more. He left the protein bar in its wrapper.

Ianto didn't keep track of how long Jack was gone. A half hour, at least. By the time Jack returned, Ianto had emptied the glass. Jack grabbed Ianto's elbow and lifted him to his feet.

"Come on," Jack said. He started to drag Ianto towards the stairs, holding his gun in his free hand.

"Where are we going?" Ianto asked.

Jack didn't answer. Ianto stumbled up the stairs behind him. He was getting tired of trying to anticipate Jack's intentions. Jack led him across the Hub and downstairs in the direction of the vaults, and this time, Ianto almost welcomed the thought of being put in a cell for the remainder of the night.

But Jack didn't stop at the cells. Ianto hurried to keep up with his pace, bewildered. Recalculating, he realized they were headed towards the storeroom where he'd kept Lisa. Without realizing it, he slowed almost to a stop, resisting Jack's grip. Jack released Ianto's elbow and looped his arm around his waist, forcing him close. He put the barrel of the gun against Ianto's stomach.

The door to the storeroom was open. The bodies were gone, but there were still pools of blood where they'd previously been. The cyber conversion unit sat in the middle of the room, but the controls had been ripped open, and the wires were spilling out. There were some new additions: a pile of cardboard boxes sat in the corner, along with a mop and a large bucket.

The whole room smelled like metal and blood. It was amazing how the two scents blended together, until Ianto couldn't tell one from the other.

"I want the floor spotless," Jack said. "Put all the personal effects in the boxes, and put everything against the wall. I'll check on you in a bit. You're not leaving this room until it's done."

Ianto turned to look at him. He started to speak, but Jack cut him off.

"I don't care if you get hungry. I don't care if you need the toilet. I don't care if you fucking collapse. Do it."

Jack released him and stepped back, out of the room. He closed the door, and Ianto heard the sickening sound of the bolt sliding into place.

Ianto turned in a circle, taking in his surroundings. He felt like he was trapped in a much smaller space than he was, and though he wasn't particularly claustrophobic, his vision grew dim and his head felt full of static. But he took deep breaths through his nose, and leaned against the wall.

At least Jack had removed the bodies. He didn't think he would be able to take care of Lisa's. And there were no cameras in here, so Jack couldn't get his jollies watching Ianto perform the tasks. Ianto walked over to the bucket and saw it was filled with sudsy water. He picked up one of the pre-formed boxes, and, stepping carefully around the blood, started to fill it. It hurt, like it was probably meant to, but least he would be the one to pack everything up.

Most of the things were Lisa's, little things that she'd liked that he'd brought in to cheer her up. There were mementos – remnants – of their relationship: a framed picture of them together, a toy bear he'd bought her last Valentine's Day. There was a book that he'd kept on hand to read while he watched over her, but he'd never been able to concentrate on it, even during the times when he'd secretly stayed the night by her side. The bookmark was still only a few chapters in.

Ianto supposed this was the last he'd see of these things. He wasn't a sentimental person, but it was hard not to be bitter. That, too, was probably intended.

When he came to the photograph of the two of them, he paused, looking down at it. He ran his thumb over Lisa's face. Turning it over, he took off the back and pulled out the picture. It was probably the only copy he had. He folded it into fourths and put it in his pocket. It didn't matter if Jack discovered he'd kept it. Ianto laid the frame face down in the box and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He was glad, once again, that there were no cameras in here.

He pushed everything – boxes and furniture – against the wall. The center of the room was clear, except for the dead cyber conversion unit. Ianto took off his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, and started on the floor.

The pearly water mixed with the blood, and spread. Ianto sniffed and pushed the mop across the pool, soaking it up. He rinsed the mop and repeated the process until the water was red. His hands ached from holding the mop, with blisters forming in the spaces between his thumbs and index fingers. His stomach hurt, and he was feeling lightheaded. Maybe he should have eaten the protein bar after all.

There was nothing more to do, and Ianto realized he couldn't possibly finish the job. He needed clean water, and more strength.

Ianto knew that half of what Jack said was probably a bluff. He hadn't been executed yet, after all. He didn't know if Jack would actually leave him locked in here or not, but the thought that Jack might not let him out because the job wasn't finished….

Ianto pressed his ear to the door, but he couldn't hear anything on the other side. He slammed his hands on the metal door.

"Are you there?" he yelled. "I've done all I can, now open the door!"

No answer. Either Jack was choosing to ignore him, or he'd left.

"Open the fucking door, you fucker!"

Yelling obscenities didn't work any better. Still, Ianto banged on the door and yelled for another full minute, stopping only when his hands and throat hurt too much to continue.

Punishment had never had the full desired effect on Ianto, even as a youth. He felt worse about the things he'd gotten away with than the things he was punished for. If Jack was hoping to make Ianto suffer for what he'd done, he was off the mark.

Of course, Jack had proved himself capable of making Ianto suffer, in general. If Ianto thought an apology would really help him, he might swallow his pride. But if Jack wanted to hurt him, there were plenty of excuses.

Ianto walked over to the cyber conversion unit. How horrible it must have been for her, to have her whole world reduced to that table and that room. On the nights that he was late, had she ever wondered if he wouldn't come? Perhaps she would want him to go through this now, to see what it felt like to be locked in.

Ianto shut his eyes. No. No, he had worked so hard. There'd not been one doubt that he was doing the right thing. His thoughts were too loud in his head, and he realized he was muttering aloud. Talking to himself. That couldn't be good. He had do something.

He was unsupervised in a room full of things that he could use to defend himself. The thought made Ianto shiver. It was one thing to try to run. It was another to arm himself, maybe even hurt Jack. But in self-defense….

Ianto opened the topmost box and pulled out the picture frame. He put it on the floor and stepped down with his heel until he heard the glass crack. Ianto crouched down and, carefully, picked out a shard of glass. It was a good-sized piece with a sharp point. The edge bit into his hand and he hissed, bringing his hand to his mouth to suck away the blood.

For a while, Ianto stood beside the door at the ready. When Jack didn't come, and the minutes turned into another hour, he gave in to his exhaustion and sat down against the wall.

* * *

Ianto had been in the room for three hours when the door finally opened.

He'd been starting to wonder if Jack would leave him there to die. It wasn't that far-fetched.

Ianto was tired. His arse was numb from the hard floor, but he didn't trust himself to stand. He still had the piece of glass concealed in his hand.

Jack stepped through the door. He looked around the room and then at Ianto.

"I did all I could," Ianto said, pre-empting any questions.

Jack didn't reply. He took a deep, sighing breath and crouched in front of Ianto. He looked tired, too.

"Ready to come out of here?" Jack asked.

 

Ianto didn't say anything.

 

Jack looked down at his boots, and shook his head. "You had no idea, did you? You didn't even have a plan."

He sounded regretful. Ianto held the glass shard at the ready. It would be easy to strike out, if he could make himself move his hand. Jack would never expect it. Jack had underestimated him from the start.

But he wouldn't move his hand. Maybe if Jack had his gun drawn, or had his fist ready to punch, it would be easier.

"Would you like to get out of here?" Jack asked, again. This time, Ianto realized it was an offer, not a threat.

Ianto let the glass slip out of his fingers. It made a soft _clink_ on the cement floor.

Jack looked down at the sound. He eyed the glass, and looked up at Ianto, meeting his gaze. Ianto didn't try to defend himself.

Without a word, Jack reached down and slid the glass across the floor, out of reach. Then he reached into his own shirt pocket, and pulled out an alcohol wipe and a hypodermic needle.

Ianto's eyes widened. He scrambled against the wall, but Jack planted a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey!" Jack said, "Settle down. It's just a sedative."

Ianto stopped struggling long enough for Jack to grab his arm and push the sleeve up further. Jack dabbed his arm with the wipe and uncapped the needle. It slid into Ianto's skin almost painlessly. When he was done, Jack hefted Ianto to his feet.

Ianto started to feel the effects of the sedative almost immediately. Reluctantly, he leaned on Jack whilst they walked down the hall. He closed his eyes, letting Jack guide him who knows where.

This time, Jack did put him into a cell. Ianto collapsed on the cool bunk, not caring about the hard surface beneath his head and aching back. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at Jack through half-closed eyes.

"You rest," Jack said. "I'll let you out tomorrow."

"What then?" Ianto asked.

"We'll discuss it." Jack started for the cell door and stopped, looking back at Ianto, not quite meeting his eyes. "I've been thinking. I won't Retcon you."

Ianto didn't understand. The absurd occurred to him: that Jack might forgive him. That wasn't something he'd considered. To his surprise, there was no relief. In place of the old fear was a new one, a nagging voice that suggested he didn't deserve it.

With that thought on his mind, he drifted out of consciousness.


End file.
